Take Two
by readerofasaph
Summary: Nijimura has been at Rakuzan a year when Akashi joins him. This time, things work out a little differently from the way they did at Teikou. A NijiAka story. (NB. Spoilers for Teikou Arc up to chapter 227 of manga.)


Nijimura's Dad was rushed to Intensive Care the day Akashi played Meikou. It was a sudden thing but by then they'd gotten into the habit of expecting sudden things. Nijimura had always been a light sleeper and so when the phone rang he came awake all at once knowing that it had to be the hospital and indeed it was the hospital.

After that it was a familiar ritual: a quick discussion with Mum - as usual she was brisk and brave and later on when there was time to cry she would do it but right now they had to attend to the necessary things - and then woke up his brother and sister and got them dressed and downstairs and into the car. The drive to the hospital seemed to last forever and once they got there they were ushered to a waiting room and told to wait. Sometimes it felt like the last three years had been an endless series of waiting.

For the next twelve hours there were nurses carrying clipboards, there were gurneys and trolleys and machines slowly whirring and beeping, at one point his brother lost his temper because he was hungry and someone brought them sandwiches, at one point his sister cried.

Neither of Nijimura's siblings asked about Dad, because they were so used to hearing _I don't know_; it was all Nijimura ever told them, because it was the truth, and had been the truth for a very long time now.

#

So he missed the Interhigh, just as he'd warned Eiji-sensei. The team did fine without him anyway. They didn't need him, just as Teikou hadn't truly needed him. It was the only reason he'd accepted the scholarship to Rakuzan, the knowledge that they didn't need him.

Summer ended and Dad got better and Mum ordered Nijimura to go back to school, with that glint in her eye that never took no for an answer. Both his brother and sister cried as he boarded the Shinkansen; he patted their heads, reminded them he'd be back next holidays, and as the train sped to Kyoto he steeled himself by remembering his parents' words: _this is important to us, we wouldn't forgive ourselves if you had to give up this opportunity, you have so much potential and we can't bear to see you waste it._.

It was only his father's wishes that kept Nijimura attending high school. There was no other reason or argument that really mattered to him. He liked basketball, but not more than his family.

He'd liked Akashi too, but in some ways that had been the least important thing of all.

#

He'd received a couple messages during the summer holidays, mostly from former teammates, asking him if he'd watched the middle school national finals; since he hadn't even managed to watch – let alone participate in – the Interhigh finals, he'd replied with a negative and thought no further of it.

It wasn't until Hayama mentioned wanting to watch the footage of 'that freaky Teikou game' that Nijimura was reminded of those texts.

He asked, "What freaky Teikou game?"

"Oh yeah," Hayama said, "you used to play for Teikou."

"I believe Shuuzou-kun was captain at Teikou," Mibuchi said in his usual mild tones. "But it certainly is a very interesting match."

Nijimura resisted the urge to remind everyone that he'd only been captain for six months, and never during a National title win, and as far as he was concerned he didn't even rank with the Uncrowned. _Nijimura_ had never had to face the Generation of Miracles in a game.

Uncharacteristically, Nebuya announced, "I'll get you the tape," and that was how Nijimura got his first glimpse of his kouhai playing basketball in over a year – in the Rakuzan club room, Nebuya on a bench eating takeaway gyuudon while Mibuchi made disapproving noises, Hayama scrunching up his face at them both. It was good being part of a team, even if Nijimura wasn't pulling his weight the way he would have liked to.

Rakuzan was strong anyhow.

But Teikou was beyond strong.

Comparing the second-year team he'd left behind with the third-year team that was destroying Meikou on the television screen was like comparing heaven and earth, goldfish and piranhas, Magikarps and Gyradoses.

Nijimura had seen it all coming, but he couldn't help shivering a little anyhow. They'd done just fine without him. Akashi had been fine without him. Nijimura had no right to be feel unhappy about that.

Then Murasakibara scored that last goal, and the camera panned and showed the scoreboard, and suddenly a whole lot of little things had been nagging at him as he watched the game on-screen came to light, all at once.

"What the _fuck_," he said.

"I know right?" said Hayama. "What a weird game."

_Akashi wouldn't-_ he thought, and then he stopped himself. Of course Akashi would. It was what Nijimura liked about Akashi: behind the delicate face was an endlessly cold and impartial mind. Akashi was neither careless nor sentimental. Akashi would always do what had to be done.

But why would Akashi think that something this stupid needed to be done?

The numbers filled the television screen: _111-11_.

#

Eiji-sensei began scouting while they were in the middle of preparations for the Winter Cup.

"You're meeting with the Generation of Miracles," said one of the second-years, and when Eiji-sensei nodded in confirmation a great buzz of chatter broke out among the club members.

Most of them agreed that Aomine was the strongest, that he should be chosen if there was any question about which of the five to recruit. Two small but significant minorities voted in favour of Midorima and Murasakibara respectively. Kise was unanimously deemed the weakest Teikou starter but also the one whose potential was most untapped.

"Most of them will want to stay in Tokyo," Mibuchi pointed out. "I'm not sure how many of them we'll be able attract to Rakuzan."

"What do you reckon, Nijimura?" asked Nebuya. "You're one who used to play with them."

Nijimura didn't even pause to consider. "Akashi," he said. "At least, if you want to win matches. And we won't get more than one member of the Generation of Miracles next year."

"How do you know that?" asked a third-year. Nijimura was uncomfortably aware of everyone suddenly watching him, including Eiji-sensei.

"It's because I know them," he answered. He still didn't fully understand the implications of what had happened at the middle school nationals, but he'd rewatched the game since, and obtained footage of a few other Teikou matches as well, and one thing was absolutely clear.

The Generation of Miracles no longer wished to play as a team.

#

"The child that you and my brother are describing to me, is not the child I saw at the middle school nationals."

Nijimura sat in the teacher's office, listening to Shirogane Eiji. Different teacher, different office, familiar scene. Eiji-sensei also wasn't as easy to talk to as Shirogane-sensei had been. He was smart and thoughtful, and he listened to what his students had to say, but Nijimura missed Shirogane-sensei's quicksilver mind.

Talking to Akashi had been like that too, all that cleverness and calm and the ability to see through everything.

Eiji-sensei understood things but he needed more explanations than Shirogane-sensei ever did. Nijimura was not good at explaining things.

"It's not that he's different," he said, and tried to think of a good way to express what Akashi was like. "Akashi works well with people, but it's not like he's a nice kid, okay? If he made a decision and he thought it was the right thing, he wouldn't care about hurting people's feelings to carry it out. That's just the kind of captain he is. He's a good leader."

Eiji-sensei made some notes on a large foolscap pad. "Your praise of Akashi Seijuurou seems rather mingled."

"I like him," Nijimura said.

"I can see that." Eiji-sensei's voice was neutral, and sounded very deliberately so. "He's asked to be made captain as one of his conditions for coming to Rakuzan."

Nijimura paused, digested the information. "You're telling me this because-"

"You were my primary candidate for captain."

"As a _second_ year?"

"Our regulars next year will mostly consist of first and second years, and we will not have any third-year starters. You were the logical choice." Eiji-sensei paused, the nib of his pen resting on his writing pad. "Also, Akashi said he would be equally happy if you were made captain instead."

For a moment he wanted it, remembered that it had been a good year, even with learning how to cope with Dad and watching Haizaki and Aomine and the rest of them, thinking, _Their time is coming, and mine is going to be over._ He'd had a good team, and good coaches, and Akashi had been everything he'd wanted in a vice-captain, everything he'd wanted in a successor.

Maybe it had all worked out a little too well in the end. The game against Meikou proved that.

Nevertheless. Rakuzan deserved a captain who'd lead them to victory, and Nijimura wasn't capable of being that captain, and so it was easy to make exactly the same decision again.

He said, "Make Akashi captain."

#

They won the Winter Cup and Nijimura went back to his usual routine of travelling to Tokyo, travelling back, missing school frequently. His grades suffered but all the teachers understood and anyway he had no intention of applying to university.

His Dad came back from hospital and in some ways that was more work than when Dad has been in hospital but it made Mum happy and his brother and his sister and so Nijimura was grateful for it. Earlier when his Dad's illness had still been a new thing they'd all hoped for things to get better. Then they'd started to fear the worst. Now they were just grateful for every month as it came, every small battle won.

Winter turned to spring and then it was time for Akashi's first day at Rakuzan. Nijimura had received text messages throughout the year telling him _Akashi's different, he's changed_, and enough people had said the same thing that he was a little curious.

Akashi found him first, stopped him near the gates right before the entrance ceremony.

"Nijimura-san," he said, with that small sweet smile of his, and then paused deliberately, before saying, "_Shuuzou_."

The use of his given name went through Nijimura like a shock; he looked into Akashi's eyes and found them calm and clear as ever.

"Who are you?" Nijimura asked.

"Akashi Seijuurou, of course," answered his former and current captain. They continued to hold eye contact. "Do you know me?"

It was a question, a demand, a plea. "Of course I do," Nijimura said, not understanding fully but understanding enough. "I've known you all along."

(What other answer could Nijimura have given? This was Akashi: his vice-captain, his captain, his kouhai, his successor.)

They spoke a little more and it was then that Nijimura noticed that some things were different: speech patterns, style of eye contact, the way he smiled. But even then he couldn't say that Akashi had truly changed. He hadn't changed anymore than Nijimura himself had changed.

If anything Nijimura was struggling more with the parts of Akashi that had remained perfectly the same. How brilliant he was, and elegant. How much Nijimura liked his hair, his eyes, his perfect nose, his smile.

He'd always known there wasn't much point to liking any of those things. But he liked them anyway.

#

Mibuchi was delighted by Akashi from the beginning. Mibuchi was weak to pretty things. Hayama and Nebuya were slower to warm to their first-year captain, but they too buckled down after a bit. Akashi was _good_, both as a player and as a captain, it was impossible to play closely with him day in and day out and not notice the fact.

It was the rest of the club that was more difficult. Nijimura didn't have the authority he'd had at Teikou, where if someone tried to badmouth Akashi he'd just have told them to shut up. Akashi was also a lot less invested in being diplomatic than he'd been in the old days.

Nijimura couldn't exactly blame him for that.

Still, he wasn't expecting the afternoon he turned up to practice only to find two of the third-years sprawled out in the middle of the centre circle and Akashi standing over them, eyes wide and dangerous, cheeks flushed, the rest of the first-string standing around in utter silence.

Nijimura had just made the decision to stand back and let Akashi do his thing when the younger boy said, "I'll kill anyone who opposes me, even my parents."

For a moment, Nijimura saw red.

In the next moment, he'd stalked over to Akashi and punched him across the side of his jaw.

Compared with the beatings he'd used to give Haizaki it wasn't much more than a love tap. But Akashi stared back initially with unbridled fury, then with a sudden shock as he absorbed the fact it was Nijimura, then again with obdurate anger.

Nijimura was about to have his first real argument with Akashi ever and it was going to be in public, right in front of the entire basketball team.

Akashi realised the situation. Akashi was the one who indicated that they should retreat to the locker rooms, leaving the rest of the club outside in stunned silence.

The moment the door closed behind them Nijimura asked, "What the _fuck_ did you just say?"

Akashi regarded him calmly, and then began, "I'm sorry I said that in your hearing."

"_In my hearing_? That's not the problem here." Nijimura couldn't believe he was contemplating socking Akashi in the face a second time. It was a pretty face. Bruises would ruin it.

"This is who I am," Akashi stared up at him, hard and unsmiling. "You can ask me not to say the words but it won't make them untrue."

"You hate your Dad."

"Incorrect," stated Akashi. "I love my father. I have learned everything he ever taught me. Nevertheless."

Nijimura was faced with a choice: he could continue banging his head against the brick wall that was Akashi Seijuurou, or he could return to practice.

He said: "Okay, whatever, let's just go back to the court."

Akashi replied: "If you don't like the way things are, you're welcome to resign from the club."

Akashi's talent for inducing jaw-dropping exasperation had gone up tenfold since they were in Teikou, and considering how bad Akashi had been at twelve years old, this was saying something. "Akashi. Are you asking me to leave the team?"

"If that's what you want."

"I never said that I wanted-" Punching Akashi's face was off-limits. Punching a concrete slab would just hurt his knuckles. "Okay. Fine. Never say those words in my presence again. Do we have an agreement?"

"...we have an agreement," Akashi answered, after pressing his lips together, and thinking quietly, and then looking up at Nijimura.

Nijimura heaved a sigh.

#

On one level, Akashi wasn't really much work at all. He led well, strategised well, remained infinitely reliable, and beyond the first two or three altercations with the upperclassmen questioning his authority, worked peacefully with all students within the basketball club and without.

On another level, something had gone wrong at Teikou, and Nijimura still wasn't sure what it was.

It wouldn't have been his business, but he liked Akashi. Both then and now.

And it was a bit presumptuous perhaps, but he knew Akashi well enough to know that Akashi liked him back.

(Of course the fact that Akashi Seijuurou liked you didn't mean that he actually _listened_ to you. Nijimura might be presumptuous but he wasn't _deluded_.)

#

They won preliminaries, then regionals, and then it was time for the Interhigh. Nijimura watched Aomine play Kise, and saw Murasakibara playing for Yousen. It was the age of the Generation of Miracles. Nijimura had seen it all coming years ago.

Akashi only allowed Nijimura to play sometimes (which suited Nijimura anyhow since his visits home were no less frequent than they usually were), and Akashi himself hardly ever played in official matches.

"Satsuki," he offered as a one-word explanation, when Nijimura asked.

"If you're holding your cards in reserve, you must have some end-goal in mind," Nijimura pointed out.

"Just victory," said Akashi. "Victory and the elimination of my former companions. But it won't be resolved at the Interhigh. We will prepare for the Winter Cup."

"And what happens if you don't win?"

"I will win," said Akashi with certainty.

"Should we take a bet on it?"

Akashi looked up from his wooden goban, where he had been laying out black and white stones in recreating an old game of Honinbo Jowa's. "There's no need, since the stakes are effectively meaningless."

Nijimura pulled a face at him. "Come again?"

"You were planning to ask me for a kiss if you we lost at the Winter Cup. I would ask you for the same thing if I won."

Despite knowing that there was no way Akashi didn't _know_, Nijimura was taken aback. For a while he did not know what to say.

Finally he asked, "Only a kiss?"

Akashi said: "After the Winter Cup. After that, we can settle any issues that lie unresolved between us. I promise you that, Nijimura-san."

#

Winning was everything to Akashi.

It was a good trait in a captain. It was what made Akashi a brilliant leader. And who knew, maybe Akashi _could_ do it, keep winning and winning and succeeding at everything he did. Nijimura wouldn't know. Nijimura wasn't a genius.

Nijimura had never managed to succeed completely at what he did, whether it was being captain or basketball player or son or brother or sempai. It would have been natural to resent Akashi, but it had never occurred to Nijimura to resent any of the Generation of Miracles, let alone Akashi.

So many people and things Nijimura cared about had proved themselves frail and fallible. Akashi though, he could count on.

Akashi was clever and steel-willed and obstinate like stone. Akashi would see any plan through to its inevitable end. No matter how difficult. No matter how bitter the conclusion of that plan was.

#

"Did Midorima approve of what the team were doing at Teikou?" Nijimura hadn't known Akashi's yearmates that well outside Haizaki and Aomine,, but he did have a general idea of what their personalities had been like. (And what would have been required for Akashi to act as he chose to act.)

"I didn't have time to deal with Shintarou's sulking," Akashi said dismissively. I t was early evening, they were reviewing the line-ups for the Winter Cup together. Akashi seemed displeased at Nijimura's attempts to change the topic.

Too bad for Akashi this was something they _did_ need to talk about. "What about Kuroko?"

"Tetsuya had not yet found the resolution to play his own style of basketball." Akashi kept writing in the notebook he used to keep track of club business. "This year, he will. I await his appearance at the Winter Cup."

Nijimura had seen the videos of the match in which Touou Gakuen defeated Seirin High. Kagami Taiga, yet another genius. If genius was meant to be a rare thing, why were there so many of them around?

"What if Seirin win the Winter Cup?" He'd heard that Kiyoshi was coming back, knew the difference it would make to Seirin's firepower. It might just be enough.

"It's odd of you to have so little faith in me," said Akashi, snapping his notebook shut.

"Maybe I just want you to lose," said Nijimura.

#

It was true: he did want Akashi to lose, but on another level he wanted Akashi to keep winning forever. It wasn't as if he had any sappy delusions about what a loss would mean for Akashi. _Maybe he'll cry. Maybe he'll need help for once. Maybe I can comfort him._

Nijimura already had far too many tears to wipe away, too many people to be strong for. He didn't want to be strong for Akashi. He didn't have to be strong for Akashi.

Akashi didn't need him but still wanted him. That promise held true.

Both of them always kept their promises. It was one of the many things they'd shared at Teikou.

#

And so, the Winter Cup.

Dad was in rehabilitation and Mum had a part-time job as an office clerk and for once, everything at home was calm, there were no crises to solve or impending appointments or surgeries or family meetings and so Nijmura could play basketball and enjoy it, run across the court without feeling guilty, without feeling like he should be somewhere else, doing something else.

Even so Akashi and Eiji-sensei managed the line-ups carefully, There were backup players for every position. Nijimura's presence was never absolutely necessary; in most games, Akashi's presence wasn't necessary either.

And they kept winning and every win took them closer to the Generation Miracles, closer to Kagami Taiga and Kuroko Tetsuya.

#

Mostly, he enjoyed the finals. It was the kind of match that made basketball worth playing: fast and furious and interesting, with new surprises at every turn.

Nijimura knew that for Akashi the Winter Cup was the culmination of years of forethought and planning, it was the event that was meant to provide _the_ answer for Akashi, whatever that meant.

For Nijimura, it was a good game. That was all.

After the buzzer sounded and the final score was posted Nijimura held the others back. Mibuchi had looked rather as if he wanted to rush to Akashi and comfort him. Akashi wouldn't like that.

Akashi shook Kuroko Tetsuya's hand and he held his head up high and he did not smile and he did not cry. And it was the end of a story that Nijimura had never been part of.

#

Afterwards he went to Akashi and found the other boy in a classroom staring fixedly at a shougi board, as if the answer to the life's ultimate questions lay hidden in its squares.

After Akashi had continued to stare for entire minutes without moving a single shougi piece, Nijimura said, "You're allowed to cry if you want, you know," and tried not to snort in amusement at the way Akashi stared at him as if he'd grown an extra head.

"_Shuuzou_," he said reproachfully. Nijimura just went over and took his hand, firmly.

"You promised me something," he reminded.

Akashi was caught off-guard at first, and then he smiled. "I did."

It was late and everyone had gone home or back to the dorms and there was no one in the classroom as Nijimura pulled Akashi in, until the younger boy was pressed against his body. Reached out one hand and felt the warmth of his back. Reached out with the other and brought their faces together.

He was impatient. Akashi was impatient. Nijimura couldn't even remember why they'd waited so long, except that it had seemed very important to wait at the time.

After a very long while they let go of each other. Akashi said, "Next year—"

"Yes," said Nijimura, understanding perfectly. "Next year we'll win."

**the end, or a beginning.**


End file.
